


A Gauntlet Scherzo

by michellemagly



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Hate Sex, Totally, Vaginal Fingering, but they would totally, have hate sex, if you want details, seriously, this is in no way a healthy portrayal of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellemagly/pseuds/michellemagly
Summary: Evie Frye and Lucy Thorne have a chance encounter in a rickety old hotel room somewhere. They may be sworn enemies, but that does not stop them from having good old hate sex.





	A Gauntlet Scherzo

**Author's Note:**

> This is super self-indulgent. I just...really like the idea of these two having sweaty, passionate, emotion-riddled sex. An of course they hate each other, so there's some anger in there.

The clock tower strikes the eleventh hour of the night, the boom of the note resonating through Evie’s core. She draws a sharp, staccato breath before Lucy Thorne’s mouth covers hers in a demanding kiss. She presses into it, a guttural groan rising from her throat as her hips roll forward with the rhythm of the following bell chimes.

There is a ringing in her ears that does not come from the clock tower. A cry catches in her chest as Lucy bites down on her lower lip. Her body stutters as she struggles to stay standing. The bell is tolling, over and over. Her hands wander over Lucy’s firm shoulders, down her biceps. Even through the fabric of her coat she can feel her defined muscles. Lucy snatches her hands away and shoves them against the wall with a snarl. She frowns down at Evie and says, “Watch yourself, Frye.”

The final knell of the hour’s toll rings out. Evie wrenches her hands out of Lucy’s grasp and entangles her fingers in Lucy’s hair, tugging her mouth back to hers. She turns them so that Lucy is pressed to the flimsy hotel wall with a thud. She breaks away from Lucy’s mouth to slide her teeth down the column of her pale throat. She listens for the soft moans she is starting to crave. She feels the words rising in Lucy’s throat, a buzzing of the soft skin under her lips:

“Oh, Evie.”

Her hands wander to Lucy’s waistcoat buttons, tugging forcefully. She pushes the first layer of clothes off Lucy’s shoulders in a rush, leaving her in nothing but her bodice and skirts. Lucy kicks her boots away in a hurry. Her hands move to help Evie unthread the ties holding her skirts in place. Both their fingers shake, their breath coming in short gasps as they work. When Evie finally undoes the last knot and shoves the skirts down, she catches sight of Lucy’s undergarments, garter belts, stockings. “Damn it, Thorne, you wear too many clothes.”

There’s a hand on her shoulder, pushing her down to her knees. And though she could fight it, she allows Lucy to do it. “Then fix it,” Lucy growls.

Evie flips a knife out from one of her many sheaths and takes a firm grip on Lucy’s undergarments, cutting them away in one smooth stroke. The fabric flutters to the floor and she’s kissing along Lucy’s thigh, sucking the skin in between her teeth and biting down. Lucy’s hands are in her hair, tugging hard as she slips a thigh over her shoulder. Her hands wander over Lucy’s stockings and garter belts. She does not bother to remove them because it almost feels _better_ with them on, or it would take too much time to get them off, time neither of them has. Lucy tugs insistently on her hair and she brings her lips higher, kissing between Lucy’s legs so that she can feel her thighs tremble and her hips twitch forward. Her tongue darts out and she tastes Lucy. She’s wet, and judging by the moans tumbling from her lips, she can’t help but let Evie do whatever she wants to her.

She runs her tongue between Lucy’s folds and captures her swollen clit between her lips, sucking hard so that Lucy cries out above her, grip tightening in her hair. “Evie!” she gasps, and the sound of her name leaving those lips is nearly enough to drive her wild. Her fingers dig into the pliable flesh of Lucy’s thighs. She presses her tongue to her tight entrance and listens to Lucy release another broken moan. She pulls away and stands up, kissing Lucy again.

When they separate, Lucy growls, “Why did you stop?”

Evie smirks at her. “I want you to ask me for it, first.”

The anger that flashes in Lucy’s eyes sends a shudder through her body. Lucy’s hands are on her shoulders, gripping hard as she tosses her back onto the bed. Evie falls back, propping herself up on her elbows so she can watch Lucy. She walks toward her, brings a hand up to her hair and undoing the meticulous bun she keeps it in. The auburn locks tumble around her shoulders and her eyes burn as she looks down at Evie. “You think I’m going to ask some dirty assassin to fuck me?” Another step forward. Evie can feel her heart thumping against her chest. Lucy kneels on the bed, straddling one of her thighs, dipping her head down so her hair curtains around them. “You think I need you to fuck me, Evie?” Lucy’s free hand is on her hip and she gasps as Lucy’s fingers trail over her. “You’re going to beg me for the pleasure to touch me.”

A hand grips one of her daggers and tugs it free. “What are you doing?” Evie asks. She tries to sit up but Lucy points the dagger at her.

“Hold still.” Their eyes lock. Evie is holding her breath, calculating what she needs to do if Lucy decides to try and plunge the knife into her heart. The likelihood of survival is low at this point, even lower if she consents to Lucy’s orders.

_She hasn’t stabbed me yet._ Exhaling, Evie lets her head fall back against the mattress and prays to God that she has not just forfeited her life for a good lay. Lucy runs the point of the dagger down her chest and she feels the laces holding her clothing in place snap free. Lucy tosses the dagger aside and it clatters on the floor. Her lips are on Evie’s again, kissing her hard while her hands sift through the ruined fabric of her clothes, pushing it away until her hands are tugging her shirt up and pressing against her overheated skin.

Evie encircles her arms around Lucy’s back, fingers clutching tightly at firm shoulders. She groans against every rough kiss Lucy wrenches from her and arches upward, pressing her body tightly against Lucy’s. Underneath her shirt, Lucy’s hands are crawling higher until they reach her bra and push the fabric up, out of the way. Lucy is kissing down the column of her throat, biting and sucking, more than likely leaving _clearly_ visible marks. Evie would voice an objection but Lucy’s hands are on her breasts and she can’t speak. She releases high, breathy moans as Lucy cups her breasts, thumbs scraping over her nipples before rolling them between her fingertips. Lucy is using her body, and Evie cannot get enough of it. Her hips arch up, searching for anything to alleviate the pressure she feels.

Lucy pulls away from her neck and she whimpers. Her hands leave her breasts and Evie whimpers, “Don’t stop.” Lucy’s hands return a second later, tugging insistently at her bodice and shirts, pulling them aside and tossing them somewhere in the hotel room. Then her hands are on Evie’s skirts, tugging the ties loose, pulling the clothing away along with her boots, stockings, garters. She strips everything away with efficiency, and does not stop until Evie is entirely naked, laid bare before her. Lucy stares at her without reservation, eyes raking paths down her body.

“You going to make good on that promise, Thorne?” Evie asks, knowing that the more she teases the more drawn out this will be.

Lucy smirks and kneels over her again, pinning her wrists above her head. “You’re going to forget your own name before I’m through with you, Frye.” She leaned in and kissed Evie again, lips gliding past her gently at first, hips rolling against hers, thigh pressing against Evie’s pulsing center. The kiss turns harsher, more demanding. Lucy’s hands crawl down her sides, pausing briefly at her breasts before clawing over her stomach. She pulls away from Evie’s mouth and kisses down her chest, taking a stiff nipple into her mouth, grazing her teeth over it. Evie cries out and arches up into her, but Lucy’s hands firmly press her back down into the mattress. One hand dips lower, fingers pressing between her folds and causing her to moan again. Lucy smirks at her. “Is there something you want, Frye?” She trails the tip of her finger over Evie’s clit, slowly pressing back and forth. Evie’s whole body is screaming for more, for anything that will relieve the pressure building inside her.

“You,” Evie gasps. She told herself she was above begging before this started, but now she’s ready to say whatever Lucy wants her to say if it will help her get off.

Lucy presses a bit more firmly, but still strokes her clit at an agonizingly slow pace. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Frye.”

“I want you to fuck me. I want your fingers inside me. I want you to fuck me as hard as you can. Please,” she begs, and she can’t even bring herself to feel ashamed because she just wants to get off.

“That’s more like it.” Lucy slides two fingers inside her and she cries out. Lucy takes a fast pace, curling her fingers forward on every inward thrust, her thumb pressing harshly against her clit. Evie can barely breathe the pleasure is overwhelming.

“Yes,” she gasps, rolling her hips with the motion of the thrusts. “Oh yes.”

“You like this?” Lucy asks, thrusting even faster.

Evie nods frantically. Her body is coiling tight with pleasure. “Don’t stop.”

Lucy laughs. “I’m not going to.” Evie barely hears her speak. She closes her eyes and focuses on the delicious sensation of Lucy thrusting into her. It’s almost too much. The pleasure is overwhelming. “I’m going to make you come, because I want the satisfaction of knowing you had to come crawling to a Templar to get off.”

The words should have caused her to feel shame but instead Evie’s core tightens up. Her body stiffens and she cries out again. “Lucy!” she begs. “Lucy, oh God, I’m-” She can’t speak anymore. Her orgasm overcomes her, hips bucking while she utters a string of nonsense. Her entire body pulsates with her release, and when it’s over she lies there shivering while Lucy smirks down at her.

Slowly, Lucy withdraws her hand. “Does that Greene fellow make you do that?” she asks.

Evie is still panting hard. She shakes her head. “God no.” She’ll feel ashamed for that answer later, but right now she feels too damn good to care. “You’re such a good lay,” she says with a breathy sigh. Some of the tension has dissipated between them. It’s also just so hard to stay mad when Lucy just did _that_ to her body. 

“Good, then maybe you can fuck me without pretending to be coy about it,” Lucy says, laying back on the bed.

Evie crawls on top of her and kisses her. “What happened to making me beg to touch you?”

Lucy snorts and places a hand on her shoulder, shoving down. “Get to work, Frye. Before I change my mind.”

Evie kisses down her body, undoing the laces on her bodice enough to allow her breasts to tumble free. Evie takes a hard peak into her mouth and sucks, lashing her tongue across the top. The sharp, ragged breath Lucy draws encourages her further. She switches to the other, worrying the tip with her tongue, relishing in the way Lucy writhes underneath her.

She kisses lower, positioning herself between Lucy’s thighs. She dips her head between them and kisses Lucy’s clit once more, feeling fingers thread through her hair and tug with a tight grip. “I said get to work,” Lucy growls.

Evie presses her tongue over the swollen flesh, stroking back and forth, listening for the specific potion that makes Lucy moan the loudest. She dips her head and presses her tongue to Lucy’s entrance once again and feels how wet she is, tastes the sharp tang of Lucy on her tongue, and then raises her mouth to her clit again. She brings a hand up, pressing two fingers against Lucy’s entrance, angling her mouth so she can keep lashing Lucy’s clit with her tongue while she fucks her.

She thrusts inside and Lucy’s hips buck forward. “Fucking hell,” she gasps, and Evie has to swallow down a chuckle. She keeps thrusting, listening to Lucy come more and more undone. She can feel Lucy’s muscles tightening around her fingers. Her hips arch forward. “Evie, don’t stop. Just—keep—” Words fail her and she cries out in a broken moan. Evie feels her pulsing around her fingers and she keeps thrusting, lashing her tongue back and forth. She waits for the tremors in Lucy’s body to subside before she stops. She removes her mouth first, wiping at it with the back of her free hand, then slowly removes her fingers.

“How was that, Thorne?” she asks, watching Lucy bask in afterglow.

Lucy draws in a deep breath and releases it in a long sigh. “Acceptable.”

Evie laughs and crawls up to lie next to her. They stare up a the ceiling together, both of them quietly breathing, neither one of them moving to physically comfort the other, but Evie feels like that’s not a necessary part of this ritual for them.

A moment later, Lucy stands and starts dressing. “Wait a while after I leave,” she says, tugging her ruined clothes on and pinning them back into place.

Evie nods, watching Lucy tie the threads of her bodice back into place. “Do we...do this again?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbow.

Lucy pauses, casting Evie a brief glance before moving to put her hair back up in its traditional bun. “We can’t exactly arrange a meeting by carrier pigeon,” she says. She begins picking up her weapons and slotting them into their various holsters. “If it happens again, it happens.” She tugs her gloves back on and looks around the room for anything else she might be forgetting. “Goodbye, Evie.” She strides toward the window, boots thudding against the floorboards. She eases herself out the window just as the clock tower strikes the midnight hour. Evie gets up and walks over to the window sill, hugging herself as she listens to the rhythmic gong of the bells. When she looks outside, Lucy is nowhere to be seen. She draws a breath. The bell continues to ring.


End file.
